


I'm Sorry for Not Loving You When I Had the Chance

by Purplesquidink



Series: The Gay Comet wIw [1]
Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: F/F, Freeform, I don't know what to tag this, Period-Typical Homophobia, The abduction, and making out, and some implied danatole, angst but theres also fluff, i hope i'll finish this, in my house... happens, pretty much entirely from Hélène's perspective, really just pining dolokhov, there's also a little marynat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-07 00:56:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12222486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purplesquidink/pseuds/Purplesquidink
Summary: Basically my take on before, after and during Marya and Hélène's make out in The Abduction,involving: Hélène trying to reconnect with Marya, a very dramatic lesbian backstory and 19th century Russian letters.





	1. The Opera Can Be A Contemplative Place

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this is my first Ao3 fic, so apologies for any weird formatting or errors. If you like this story and want me to continue please let me know! Also, kudos, bookmarks, hits and all that jazz are greatly appreciated<3.

Hélène despised how she hated Natasha. And then hated how she couldn't possibly loathe the young girl. Unfortunately, the charming girl reminded Hélène all too much of her younger self, before she married Pierre and her heart drained empty. Before she resorted to partying to cope with their marriage as Pierre had to drinking. A simpler time. A time when she was happy without having to force it or steal it from others. A time when Marya Dmitrevenya was in love with her. And she loved her the same.

Maybe she really never stopped loving her. 

It didn't matter– it shouldn't matter. Regardless of how she felt, it was a well-known fact Marya could not stand Hélène even remotely anymore.

_ Things changed,  _ Hélène supposed. 

She herself changed as well. Yet, Marya didn't seem to change at all, besides the feelings and words she directed at Hélène. She didn't even look that different–maybe more mature; the playful spark in her eyes extinguished years and years ago.

* * *

 

At the Opera, Hélène saw Marya for the first time in months. caught Marya in the corner of her eye, speaking eagerly to the two young girls accompanying her, the spark twinkling back in her eyes. But reality sunk and the second time Hélène peaked back Marya’s eyes returned to looking serious, sharp, alert. It stung, too, a particular factor that frustrated Hélène greatly.

_ Why did she still care about this?! _

Marya always seemed to be on her mind. Hélène tried to push her thoughts away, yet Marya herself was a fighter; she shouldn't be surprised the mere memory of her continues to embody that vigorous spirit. The very thought gave Hélène the motivation to at least hold a conversation with the Great Dame of Moscow. 

_ This will bring closure, either way, this’ll stop my constant thinking of the damned woman regardless of how this goes. _

Slinking through the crowded theatre, Hélène made her way towards Marya and company. A large middle-aged man in a military uniform blocked Hélène’s path. She stood on her tiptoes to peer over his shoulder. Only coincidence or fate could explain it was at that very moment Marya looked in that very direction and her eyes locked with Hélène’s. With the ferocity of a thousand dragons, Marya’s ice grey eyes bored into Hélène’s dark brown ones, with such an intensity it could make a grown man weep.

It was a good thing Hélène was not a grown man.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Hélène stared back, playfully batting her eyelashes. Marya glared back until she finally looked down to one of the young girls accompanying her pulling gently at her sleeve. The  girl speaking to Marya was quite beautiful, her melodious voice floated over the crowd as she animatedly talked to Marya.

 

_ That must be Marya’s Natasha….charming _ . 

Hélène remembered when  Marya first found out about she was to be a godmother. Oh, even then she already  _ adored  _ her Natasha! The other girl standing next to Marya remained quiet, or perhaps her lips were moving but her voice was too soft to hear. 

Natasha’s gaze flittered over to focus on Hélène.

“All that neck...all those pearls,” she gasped in awe.

Allowing small smirk to play upon her lips, Hélène gave a small nod to the girl.

“So beautiful… what a charming young girl- so enchanting,” she purred. 

A bright blush crept across Natasha’s face.

Just as Hélène decided to spark a conversation with Marya’s beloved goddaughter, the man who was previously standing in front of Hélène walked away, creating an accessible gap through the crowd. Before Hélène could saunter over, Marya gracefully charged through the gap.

“Countess Bezukov,” she stated firmly.

Hélène felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle at the sound of Pierre’s— _ her _ surname. Marya was set in her old-fashioned ways so perhaps she did not intend to hurt Hélène as much as she just did. 

 

Regardless, Hélène felt uncharacteristically vulnerable for a fraction of a second as the name rolled off of Marya’s tongue.

The dame turned back to the girls in introduction. 

She waved an airy hand at Hélène. “Pierre’s wife.”

Marya craned her neck, her eyes searching. “And where is dear Pierre?

“He never used to forget us–”

“Oh, yes! Pierre that good man, a little sad, a little stout.” Natasha interjected.

Hélène widened the faulty grin plastered upon her lips. “He decided to stay home and study tonight.” 

“He must come visit us!” insisted Natasha.

“I will implore him to do so,” Hélène let out a small laugh and gazed at the girl in admiration.

Marya pursed her lips and glared at Hélène.

 

“There's a woman one should stay away from,” she warned, shooting a dagger into Hélène’s heart. 

Swiftly, she guided the two girls away, wrapping a protective arm around Natasha.

 

Hélène ignored the burning sensation in her throat. No one said closure would bring disclosure as well. 

 

She decided to wait.


	2. Sometimes the Disconnect Between a Party of Two Feels the Same As a Party of Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hélène continues to lament while simultaneously trying to avoid thinking about her feelings.

The next day, she was at Dmitrevenya’s steps.

 

_ But, I'm not here for you, today. _

 

Upon her brother’s request, Hélène was to persuade Natasha to go to the Ball.

_ Why _ , she agreed so hastily eluded her. Most likely, it was because she and Anatole always aided each other; in the closeness siblingship brings, they always had each other’s backs despite everything else. A less likely reason for agreeing would involve an attraction to Anatole’s newest conquest, yet while Hélène found Natasha to be beautiful and charming, the young girl did not constantly entertain her thoughts every waking second of the day— not that anyone else had either. Absolutely not.

_ One thing's for certain, _ Hélène reassured herself, _f_ _ or whatever reason I am here, it has nothing to do with catching the slightest glimpse of Marya.  _ _ Nope. _

 

Her fingers clutched against the golden knocker, the cold from the metal seeping inside her gloves. Hélène let the knocker fall against the door making a loud _CLANG!_ The noise was met with the sound of scurrying on the other side. A girl with flaming red hair and rosy cheeks opened the door. Her eyes widened in surprise as she looked at Hélène.

 

“C-countess Bezukhova– h-hello.” 

“Please, drop the formalities, Hélène’s just fine– I am so sorry, I didn't get your name when I saw you at the Opera.” 

The girl gave a timid smile. “Sonya.”

“And you're Natasha’s cousin, yes?”

Sonya nodded enthusiastically. “Natalie’s upstairs, if you're looking for her.”

“I am, actually.” Hélène slipped inside, shutting the door behind her. “Is the Great Dragon of Moscow home?” 

“No, she's out right now,” Sonya confided with a tiny giggle.

“Good, I won't be long,” Hélène replied as she sauntered up the steps.

 

* * *

 

After Hélène had successfully wooed Natasha into going to her Ball, she quickly left, practically running from the house in unexplainable hurry. Probably because if Natasha going to said Ball was made known by Marya, Hélène would not live to see the next day. And although death wasn't entirely welcome to Hélène, she didn't shy away from it either. It simply just seemed so lonely. Much too lonely for Hélène.

 

She went back to fixating her attention on adjusting her costume. 

The straps of the butterfly wings she planned to wear were twisted. Slipping the wings off, she straightened the straps softly humming to herself. 

The Ball is in four hours, time to make sure everything’s set up perfectly. Natasha’s coming over, which means Anatole will be distracted as Dolokhov sulks bitterly in the corner.

_ Where will I be? _ Hélène wondered to herself.  _ Perhaps dancing, finding a willing partner is not hard. Yes, spinning around with my pearls flying from my chest, that is what I like. _

 

* * *

 

It could only be an act of cruel irony that once after Hélène exhausted herself from dancing, she ended up joining Dolokhov’s Sulkfest.

 

“It's warm, huh, Fedya?” She fanned her hand in front of her face. “I'm freezing,” Dolokhov grumbled. “Let's have a dance, that'll warm you up.” “No thanks. Besides you look like you danced yourself out.”

 

He tilted his head, scanning the crowd. Hélène didn't even need to turn around to know he was looking for Anatole.

 

“He claims he loves her more than anyone else. 

Dolokhov made a face of disgust. “He always says that.” 

“Fedya, you need to let him go. I know you–” 

 

Dolokhov grabbed Hélène by the wrist and pulled her into an empty side room. 

“Hélène! You have to be more careful,” he scolded. 

“I'm not going to be hung for merely being convinced as opposed to getting caught in the act.” 

“Sorry, I forgot,” Hélène gave a half-hearted shrug. “The law is stupid.”

“Correct, however we happen to live in a place where we have to follow it or else we get punished.” Dolokhov rested his hands on Hélène’s shoulders. “You of all people should  _ know _ that.” 

 

His statement was the equivalent of the sound of a gunshot piercing the air. Hélène flinched and shook him off.

 

“Maybe we should leave, then. I have nothing for me here.  And once Anatole plans some kind of scheme to elope with the countess, neither will you.  We have no one but each other .” 

 

Dolokhov gave her an inquisitive look. 

Hélène gritted her teeth. “Don't even mention _him_ , he–” 

“I’m not referring to your dear husband.” 

“Then to whom are you possibly referring?!”

 

A glimmer sparkled in Dolokhov’s eye. 

 

“You don't have to talk about her to reveal your true feelings for her.” 

 

Hélène felt anger boiling up inside her as  _ Dolokhov, stupid pining FEDYA  _ was the one trying to give her relationship advice for something that is too broken beyond repair.

 

“It's funny, you’re wasting your breath to tell me this instead of boldly confessing your love to my clueless brother.”

She felt the air drop ten degrees as the words left her lips like biting frost.

“At least I can admit how I feel!” Dolokhov fumed, as he stormed out of the room.

 

Hélène stood quietly in the empty room for an uncharacteristically long time, staring out the giant moonlit window and thinking.

“Will I really do this?”, she asked no one in particular.

 

The stars twinkled in reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you excited for chapter three? (The Abduction is Coming)
> 
> Kudos, bookmarks, hits and all that jazz are greatly appreciated<3.
> 
> Also, again apologies for any errors!!! (Im self-editing this)
> 
>  
> 
> Talk to me about MaryaxHélène,The Great Comet, Ghost Quartet and/or really any wIw on my tumblr @cresiendo


	3. And Then There Was Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Abduction and More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are gonna be mad at me after this... (I promise I'm gonna update soon, okay?)

Two days later, Hélène found herself standing in front of the steps to Marya’s home once again. She knew vaguely of her brother’s elopement plan– not as well as Dolokhov, but well enough to know she was supposed to make sure Marya was distracted. The entire arrangement seemed unreliable, but Hélène wished her brother the best. It was a shame this mess will probably ruin the poor, young countess. But no one had forewarned Hélène before her life became a mess, so why should the countess be rescued from the storm heading her way? Hélène tried to ignore the feeling of dread clinging to the back of her throat.

 

She decided not to utter a word of her secret concern for the young Rostova’s wellbeing. And so the beast of silent petty vengeance unlocked itself from it’s cage.

She swung the knocker once. No answer. Twice. No answer. Just as she lifted the knocker for the third time, the door swung open.

 

“Hélène. _Kuragina_.” Marya’s voice remained both sharp yet welcoming. Something Hélène felt in her knotted stomach and a childlike giddiness seemed to wash over her. She didn't think she could've prepared herself for this response in a million years.

“What are you doing here?” Her sharp eyes focused on Hélène in suspicion.

“Let me in and I'll let you find out,” Hélène’s smooth voice draped around the stagnant air.

To her surprise, Marya reached out for her hand and pulled her inside the house.

 

“Please, sit down.” Marya jutted her chin at the sofa. “The girls are upstairs.”

Hélène sat and Marya took her place in the chair opposite to her. A servant ran up to Marya and laid a tray containing two dainty glass cups, a teapot, and a large ornate plate, decorated with sweets. Marya nodded in acknowledgment, then clapped to send the servant away. She turned back around so Hélène could resume studying her sharp grey eyes– the color of frost reflecting the winter sky. Hélène felt an overpowering emotion sweep over her—the same sensation as the burning in her stomach after taking a swing of tonic.

She pursed her lips to take a small sip of her tea, pleasantly surprised to discover the touch of rum.

 

_How Marya._

 

“Never changed, did you?” Hélène wrapped her fingers tightly around the cup, twirling with a strand of loose hair with her other hand.

“I wouldn't say that, but this the only acceptable way of drinking afternoon tea when the girls are around.”

Hélène raised an eyebrow. “And when they're not around?”

It could have easily been a trick of the light, but Hélène swore she saw Marya staring much too far below her eye level.

 

 _I must find out what she's thinking…_ Hélène thought to herself.

 

“With vodka.”

 

A coy grin played upon Hélène’s lips as she took another sip.

“A respectable choice– well I respect it, so it's probably not such a respectable choice in your eyes.”

Marya let out a small chuckle, her icy gaze softening ever so slightly, hiding her smile behind her teacup.

 

And for the first time in her life, Hélène felt a hot blush, evoked by feelings of attraction race across her cheeks.

She noted the chairs must've danced forward, because she and Marya were now sitting so close she could nearly feel Marya’s breath against her cheek.

Hélène decided it was time.

 

She leaned closer, waiting and watching to see Marya’s reaction.

Marya, the Great Dragon, leaned even closer.

Then Hélène.

Then Marya.

They were now touching noses.

 

“We have much to catch up on,” Marya stated in a businesslike manner.

“We can always talk later,” Hélène replied in a voice that sounded much more confident than she felt.

“We lost so much time.”

“Let's not waste any now.”

 

Hélène felt Marya’s eyelashes flutter against her cheek as she blinked.

“You very well know I am very organized with my time,” The Dragonwoman let a smirk tug at the corner of her lip, as she leaned, if even possible, closer to Hélène.

 

And as if a million troikas set on fire stampeded over Hélène all at once, she felt her entire body red, hot and ablaze. Her cheeks became crimson as she planted her lips on the smoldering reds of Marya Dmitrieyvna. Marya kissed back, with the same amount as passion and fervor as Hélène. She pulled the rest of Hélène’s body closer, wrapping her arms around her back with the strength of a boa constrictor. Sliding off her chair and onto Marya’s lap, Hélène licked Marya’s lip before promptly biting it down. Marya dropped her jaw, her tongue crashing into Hélène’s as they explored each other's mouths.

 

Hélène’s hands began roaming around Marya, tracing her figure with her palm.

“Beautiful,” she muttered breathily, her hands running up Marya’s back, her neck, her hair.

Marya smirked against Hélène’s teeth. “Usually, people with histories like ours don't just jump to this the next chance they see another after all those years.”

“That's _exactly_ what grossly sick romantic people do.”

“Does that mean you're insinuating this is what we are, right now?” Marya quickly pecked the corner of Hélène’s mouth.

“Maybe I am–” Hélène dragged her tongue down from Marya’s lower lip to her mid neck. “Or maybe I just want to see if I can get a certain Dmitriyevena fall for me _again_.” She began sucking on Marya’s neck, eliciting a soft moan from the other woman.

“ _Please_ , as if you weren't the one who marched up to me and then pulled me into the other room and asked me “if the rumors were true, and I really had slept exclusively with women”.”

“I don't remember that,” Hélène lied, savoring the softness of Marya’s milky flesh. “I do remember you stuttering and nervously tapping your nails when I asked out to dance.”

Hélène sucked harder, making a popping sound as she released her grasp and relished the prolonged  moan from Marya.

“And then, before I could reply, you mysteriously vanished from the party all together.”

“I got swept away by the crowd, I couldn't find you again.”

“I would've said yes.”

 

Hélène froze, her heart pounding in her throat and her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth.

She forgot what it felt like, to feel so openly vulnerable. She detested it.

 

“Unfortunate. That I got lost in the crowd, then.”

“Most unfortunate.” Marya tilted her head ever so slightly to the side.

“Lenochka, I know you're thinking of something...are you thinking of–”

“No, and I don't want to talk about it. Let's go back to entertaining our shared interest that is me discovering every surface of your mouth,instead.”

Marya rolled her eyes at Hélène’s intentionally ridiculous statement. She gave her a quick kiss and left a trail of red lipstick stains down her neck.

“I never stopped wearing this shade,” Marya professed, as she kissed Hélène’s collarbone.

“Much, much after you gave it to me I realized it really was my color. You were right.”

“When am I not with such _important_ matters?”

Marya let out a small chuckle. “That is true. You are, however, unwilling at best, to discuss the way you feel about this.” She quickly pointed from Hélène to herself.

“You don't seem that eager to talk about it either.” Hélène leaned to nibble on Marya’s ear.

“It did not say I wanted to, but I find it necessary at the very least.” Marya suddenly sat up straighter, her composure back to how it was before. 

 

Hélène reluctantly pulled herself away, but kept her hands casually resting on Marya’s hips.

 

“What do you want me to sa—”

The sound of a dozen distant hooves click-clacking against the road interrupted Hélène’s question.

“It's a strange time for rushing troikas,” Marya commented, her eyes darting towards the clock on the wall. As she started to rise, Hélène quickly pulled her back down.

“It's probably nothing, Maruysa, darling, come back here and kiss me.

 

The noise grew louder, accompanied by loud yelling and cheering. It was almost as if the troika was parked directly in front of Marya’s house.

 

Marya stood back up and walked to the door.

“Someone needs to tell those hooligans not to contaminate my very well-kept house.”

One of Marya's servants ran up to her and whispered in her ear. Marya turned around to face Hélène.

The rage imprinted on her face was a new level of horrifying. Hélène could practically feel the smoke fuming from Marya’s flaring nostrils. Suprisingly, she managed to keep a calm tone.

 

“I think it's best if you leave. _Now,”_ her voice edged towards the end.

 

Hélène stood up, feeling a pang of worry for her brother strike against her chest. “Marya, I'm–”

 

Marya struck her arm out, her talon-like nails pointing sharply at the door. “Go. And don't come back unless you want to see true extent of my _wrath_.” Marya hissed, melting a chasm in the back of Hélène’s skull with her glare.

 

There was an old saying about a every person in the world manifests their own sort of apocalypse at some point in their life. Hélène tried not to let her tears burn holes in the ground crumbling before her. The choking smoke suffocated her as she walked slowly backward, edging near the door. Her eyes met again with Marya's burning twin suns, carrying the blinding fury of a good man who had been cheated by life. Hélène let out a sharp cry and flung open the door, sprinting off of Marya Dmitreyena's steps. The cold hail hit against her cheeks but she couldn't stay in the center of the dystopian mess she made of her life.

And so, she ran.

The winter air sliced open her exposed flesh, her lungs stung with fire and her footprints were like acid holes from a nuclear wasteland.   

She ran until she arrived what most called her "home".

 

For once, she was relieved when she discovered she was completely alone.

She let the tears fall fast as she stared blearily into the street, unsure if it was the hail or her tears that made everything so blurry.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okAy, I'd like to start by apologizing, but there is more yet to come!!!! Don't lose hope!!!!
> 
> I'm gonna try to update asap because it would be cruel to leave you hanging for so long...(but school is taking over my life so the next chapter's probably gonna be really short). 
> 
> Thanks for reading this, I love you and kudos, hits, bookmarks are appreciated very much and they inspire me to keep going! (So a big thank you to everybody who already gave me some<333333)
> 
>  
> 
> Talk to me about MaryaxHélène,The Great Comet, Ghost Quartet and/or really any wIw on my tumblr @cresiendo

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the fic so far!
> 
> Talk to me about MaryaxHélène,The Great Comet, Ghost Quartet and/or really any wIw on my tumblr @cresiendo


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